


Valuables

by Raisans_Grapeon



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Accidents, Angst, Best Friends, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Temporary Amnesia, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-17 18:30:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18104033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raisans_Grapeon/pseuds/Raisans_Grapeon
Summary: A normal investigation goes awry when a thief breaks in, and the only thing he managed to steal was Shane.





	Valuables

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to another fic of mine.
> 
> Few things to start, holy hell this was not what I originally planned. Like woah. This just ended up happening so I am sorry?
> 
> Also, I am not a professional nor am I actively studying creative writing or taking any formal writing classes. Critique would be greatly appreciated.
> 
> Okay, I hope you enjoy.

Someone needed to turn off the damn lights. It was almost impossible for him to open his eyes without burning his retinas. Everything was an indistinguishable, burning white that seemed to stretch to nowhere. Then again, he couldn’t quite open his eyes all the way. His forehead throbbed with a dulled pain. A groggy groan gritted it’s way through his throat, face scrunching into a displeased snarl. After a few more flutters, he managed to get his eyes to stay open long enough to acclimate and process his surroundings. The walls and ceilings were white with nary another colour in sight. Something deep down somewhere told him it was an awful lot like a hospital. He drew a deep breath, almost tasting the disinfectant on his tongue. There was a distant drone of fluorescent lights and a soft, but steady beep. His head calmed a bit but still stung. The moment he flicked his eyes over to see a tower of machines with various screens all saying a mess of medical mumbo jumbo, his suspicions were confirmed. All the machines were connected to him via tubes and wires on his arm. His skin was smooth and soft looking, palm opened upwards to the ceiling. When he checked his other side, he was met with a peculiar sight. 

There was a man, eyes blown open wide as if he caught sight of something ghastly, yet he had the biggest smile on his face. His cheeks were glistening with moisture, and his eyes were glossy, but a clear sign of pure joy was reflected deep within his dark brown irises. His raven black hair was falling over his forehead, but it was greasy with a styling product, which had at some point failed at holding the man’s hairstyle. Altogether, he looked like an overjoyed child, who just got ice cream after scraping his knee, snot and all. Every part of him-not him but  _ him- _ wanted to pull this man close, but he didn’t know this man. He was just some guy crying over him. It was disturbing, but almost comforting in a way, even if his affections were misplaced. After seconds of just staring, the sniveling mess finally said something. “Thank fuck you’re awake! Shit man…” His head dropped and began to shake from side to side. He-not him- could only watch with growing confusion. “I knew you were gonna be fine, but still! God… I was so scared.” His voice quivered, shook from whatever he thought had happened.

He-not him, but he- blinked, a growing sense of unease pushing at his throat, begging to be released. The man was obviously waiting for him- _ him _ \- to say something. What that something was, had been lost in communication somewhere. He decided to take a dive, and just say whatever came first. 

“Iiiiaaaahhhhhhhhhh.” It was a truly abhorrent display of comprehensibility. 

Unsurprisingly, that was not the response that the man was expecting, because his head snapped up in an instant to meet his eyes again. The joy in the man’s eyes was dulled, and his smile was nowhere to be seen. “Shane?” It was soft, near inaudible if he had been a few feet away.

That didn’t matter though. His…  _ his _ name wasn’t Shane. “I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong room, Sir.” He said it in his most formal, polite tone, just to make sure the obviously grieving man didn’t get offended in any way.

It had the exact opposite effect, seeming to break the man further. “What-what do… do you mean? Of course, you-you’re…” A broken laugh cut through unnaturally. “Oh… I see you-you. This…” He-not him- was getting unnerved. “This is s-some… uh, sick fucking joke. Har har, very funny, you ass.” A smile was back on the man’s face, but it was crooked.

“Dude… you don’t just call a stranger an ass. That’s rude. You’ve hurt my feelings.” He was being serious, but there might’ve been a flair of sarcasm thrown into the mix, as if by habit.

It came out serious enough to strike another blow against the man. “Shane, you’ve… you’ve got to b-be shitting me. Y… you…” His eyes softened, lids falling slightly. “Please… Stop. I’m tired, I don’t… I don’t want to deal with this. Not right now.” He leaned forward, hand grabbing his- _ his _ , not his. He tugged his own hand free from the other’s clammy touch. The man’s face fell more. “Shane. C-come on… Enough messing around.”

He really did want to give up whatever this Shane was supposed to be stopping, but he couldn’t. All he could do was try his best to redirect the man. “Sorry, but you’ve got the wrong room.” He tried to be firm with the man, hoping to get it through the man’s head. 

The man didn’t say anything. He was still, but ragged breaths kept his chest heaving. His brows had furrowed slightly, examining  _ him _ . “Alright.” His voice was small, and weak, reflecting the strange hurt in his eyes. “Who are you, then?”

The question was simple enough. “Who are you, then?” Four words. 13 letters. Two seconds of sound. Even the words kept their letter count below five. And of course, he knew who he was. He just needed to pull his name out. It was simple. Just a name. An identity. He had one, he knew he did. He reached, but there was nothing there. There was a gaping hole, void of anything. But that was impossible. His head felt like it was being burned. He knew who he was. He was… he was… Well, he was a… he had… He had something. He was something. He was someone. A name, how hard could it be to remember a name? What were names? Shane was the only name swimming around, that couldn’t be it. It was whoever the man was looking for. It wasn’t him. There was nothing to draw from. He tried to trace it back, maybe a spark to ignite his mind into work again, but there was nothing. Was he nothing? But he had to be something. Someone put him in the hospital. Someone cared. Family? No… There was nothing there. Friends? Nobody. Not a name but Shane. A man he wasn’t. His mind ran in circles, empty of anything but one question that even he wanted the answer to.

Who was he, then?

“Woah, hey! Calm down! Just relax for Christ’s sake!” The man cut through his -a nobody’s- thoughts. He became aware that he had hunched over, hands gripping his hair in an attempt to distract himself from the relentless burning from his head wound. Strange. He didn’t know his hair was brown. The rogue thought made him screw his eyes shut. He suddenly lost the appetite to know how much he didn’t know. The man beside him rested a reassuring hand against his back. “Hey, just stop thinking about it! Your head might start bleeding again!”

Bleeding? Right, he was here for a reason. He was in the hospital for a reason. Hospitals needed to keep track of their patients, like who they were. He opened his eyes to scan the area for papers, anything that could help him. There weren’t any desks or tables around, and he became painfully aware of how small his room was. “Papers. Where are my papers?” He shot a hard gaze over to the man beside him. He looked rattled and concerned. 

“Listen, I think you should just slow down… let’s just lay down.” He didn’t want to though. How was he supposed to pretend the gaps weren’t there? How was he supposed to be a nobody even though someone out there knew he was a somebody? He needed to find out. He tried to swing his legs out to stand, but the man was forceful, pressing a hand into his-his- chest. He had no hopes of putting up a sufficient fight against the clearly well-toned arms. The man must work out a lot. “I’m going to call someone…” The man reached back on the bed and hit a button that would call a nurse to the room. 

He stared at the man for a few seconds, growing tired of giving a painfully vague title like the man. He figured he might as well start building up his knowledge base again as he waited for some idea of himself to come back. “What’s your name?” It was innocent enough, but he knew that it would be more damaging to the man than he could ever realize at the moment.

“Ryan.” It was only a whisper, maybe a breath, but he could hear it. Ryan wouldn’t meet his eyes, visibly worn by the long minutes that they had spent together. “My name’s Ryan Steven Bergara.” He caught Ryan’s quick glance at him, and the hope that shimmered in his eyes.

His brain wouldn’t provide any leeway, as Ryan was probably hoping. “Nice name, Ryan.” It rolled seamlessly out.

Ryan just ducked his head down further, cutting himself off. He couldn’t blame the man. The following silence was tense and disquieting, but neither could bring themselves to break it in the risk of upsetting the other like they were a minefield. 

The light wood door that cut his room off from the rest of the hospital delicately swung open, and a nurse dressed in teal scrubs stepped in. She had bobbed, black hair, and thick-rimmed glasses. She stared at him for a few seconds smiling softly. When she opened her mouth to greet him, Ryan intervened quickly, stepping between him and the nurse. This clearly got the nurse’s attention, who stepped fully into the room to talk with Ryan. Their voices were hushed, but he- _he_ \- could still hear them.

“The doctor said that the blow might cause some… memory problems.” 

The nurse nodded along, grabbing a clipboard from the foot of his bed. “Yes, and I’m guessing that is what you ran into when he woke up?”

Ryan nodded stiffly. “Yeah… Well, he doesn’t remember anything. He doesn’t know me, his name. He’s struggling to pull anything out. This is more than just forgetting what happened! He should know his own name, right?!” His voice quickly escalated into hysterics, and he-he- wanted to lean up and comfort the man. 

The nurse was quick to hold up her hands to calm Ryan down. “Don’t worry, Mr. Bergara. Whatever happened, it won’t be permanent. Mr. Madej will remember in due time. When that will happen is up in the air. It could take anywhere between a few days to months.” She looked through the papers on the board, scratching something down with her pencil. Madej, huh? He had a pretty weird last name.

“Months!?” Madej was almost certain that Ryan was going to fall over at that, and Madej was right behind him with that sentiment. Months without remembering a thing about himself would be maddening. If the first 5 minutes without his memories was already severely detrimental to his ability to do anything other than pushing to find whatever he had lost, months of that would surely drive him mad. Madej didn’t know if he could handle months of that kind of stress and distraction.

“Don’t worry, it’ll happen in an instant. It’ll be like nothing changed, and he’ll be able to recall anything. You could help it along though by just telling him about himself. Whatever you can,” the nurse rattled off, rounding to the other side of Madej’s bed and checking the monitors.

Resigning, Ryan sat back down onto a chair, mumbling, “What a relief,” sounding blatantly disheartened. “That thought will totally make those months bearable.” Ryan did nothing to keep the biting sarcasm from his voice.

The nurse fiddled further, not paying any mind to Ryan’s scornful commentary. Madej kept his eyes trained forward, unable to stomach anything at the moment. His mind was too occupied with emptiness. After a few seconds, the nurse tapped him on the shoulder. “Sir. Are you comfortable?”

“Mentally or physically?” Madej shot the question out like second nature. The nurse humored him with a smile and left without asking for clarification. Madej watched, eyes snapping to his lap with the click of the closing door. He could feel Ryan’s gaze, chest clenching in apprehension. “So… My name is actually Shane… huh?” It was awkward, but they both knew that the more Shane Madej knew, the quicker all the tension could be released. 

“Yeah. Shane Alexander Madej.” 

“You’re… my friend, I’m assuming? We don’t exactly have a familial resemblance.”

Amazingly, that got Ryan to sputter a bit, rubbing his temples. “Jesus Christ man… This is serious.”

Shane looked over to see Ryan had a big, reluctant smile on his face. He decided to start running with it. “Oh, I’m taking this very seriously! Do you want a new question? How about… uhh... Oh! I’m fucking loaded, aren’t I? Am I swimming in money?” A mischievous grin slipped out.

Ryan wheezed lightly, looking up with tears in his eyes. Shane felt his heart seize up at the sight. “Stop it, Shane… We actually have to be serious about this.” His smile was misplaced, as his voice struggled to harden.

With a breath, Shane sunk further into his stiff hospital bed. Obviously, something about his jokes made Ryan very distraught, despite whatever joy came with it. “Right…” He searched for a question that might not bring Ryan to tears. “What do I do for a living?”

It was a very bad question to ask the emotionally unstable man because it actually managed to squeeze a tear out. Ryan drew a breath, and Shane was ready to rescind his question; however, Ryan still answered. “We work together. We host a YouTube Series called Buzzfeed Unsolved. We look into various unsolved crime cases or supernatural events.” He rubbed the tears away with a sniff. 

An idea sparked at the mention of videos. “Wait, if we record stuff for a living, why don’t we just watch some of those videos? It’d be a good way to catch me up on the kind of person we both are!” He was reasonably excited at the prospect, and Ryan even seemed to like it as well.

“Yeah… yeah. I have my phone on me, we could watch some of them right here.” Ryan eagerly dragged a chair over to Shane’s bedside, holding his phone up so they could both watch him scroll through videos and land on one titled “The Terrors of Yuma Territorial Prison.”

\--

The rest of Shane’s day was spent watching himself on Ryan’s phone screen. He got solid characterizations of both of them. Ryan had a propensity to freak out of various sounds and noises, not to mention the prospect of ghosts and demons, but wasn’t a wimp in the slightest sense of the word. He went into every situation with only a few objections. He enjoyed regaling tales of murder and aliens to Shane, and it was evident that he truly enjoyed what he was doing. If Shane was to describe himself based off of what he saw in the videos, it was fearless. He had no care for whatever happened on locations and spent most of the episodes either joking or being a voice of reason. It did explain why jokes fell out of his mouth with ease. During stories, it was much of the same, however, leaning more towards the kidding side. He very rarely posed anything that might suggest that he was smarter than the average person, and he seemed to take everything with a lackadaisical attitude. Many times while watching, Shane would look over at Ryan. His eyes would always be trained on the video, a clear conflict of emotions tussling about in his head. The videos showed that Shane and Ryan had been very close, and the toll that the whole situation must’ve been having on Ryan started to come into realization for Shane. He could never really understand, being on the opposite end of the issue and not having the strong attachments he once had, but he could infer that it was tearing Ryan up inside. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like to have a friend beside him, but they weren’t really there.

Still, it was enjoyable. At times, it almost felt like nothing had happened. Like normalcy was already there. Of course, at some point, a reference would be made, and Shane wouldn’t understand what was going on. They really should’ve gone through in order.

They were watching Shane’s first True Crime episode when he decided that he would broach the question that they were both avoiding. Shane knew it would really hit a nerve with Ryan, but he felt that he had the right to know. “Ryan… what happened to me?” He was still watching the presentation, but not really listening.

The phone screen cut to black, now powered off. Shane blinked and looked over to Ryan with confusion. His friend had his back to Shane, shoulders hunched slightly as he appeared to be gathering something together. Ryan mumbled, “Visiting hours are almost over. I better be going.” His tone emphasized that it was not up for debate. Before Shane could stop him, Ryan was gone, leaving behind no sign that he had ever been there. Shane sunk into his bed, staring at the bright lights above. After a few minutes, they dimmed as the hospital fell into night hours. All he could do at that point was fall into sleep, his dreams empty.

When Shane woke up, the lights were still dimmed. What time was it? There wasn’t a clock in the room, and he didn’t have his phone with him. Did he even have a phone? He worked with electronics for a living, he had to have a phone. Did he though? He could never know until he saw it. He hated having that mentality about the very reality he sat in. His head ached, but it wasn’t too bad. 

Shane’s door drifted open, a brown mess of curly hair poking in. It was a female, with thick-rimmed glasses set over her earthy brown eyes. Her face was soft, and her hair looked rough in a good way. In a way where Shane felt he could run his hand through it and the curls would scratch and tickle at his palm. Her eyes seemed to catch just enough light to glow with intelligence, and Shane could’ve sworn he felt his heart stop for a second. It didn’t take much for Shane to figure that this was what love at first sight felt like. His mouth was parted slightly and his eyes were wide, eager to commit the woman to memory before it disappeared like everything else. 

The woman stepped fully in, smiling brightly. “Hey, how you feeling, buddy?” She sounded affectionate and relaxed.

Shane struggled to find a good string of words to make a better impression than his looks must’ve made. “Hey. I’m Shane.” He tried to flash an award-winning smile and based off the giggle he got, it either worked surprisingly well, or it was the sorriest attempt to ever exist, and this beautiful woman was kind enough to humor him. He really hoped it was the former. He took a dive and decided to compliment her. “Your hair looks… nice.” He must’ve forgotten how to flirt as well.

“No need to try so hard, Shane. We’re already dating.” Shane sighed in relief, thanking his old self for scoring big. She strolled casually over to the chair that had been left next to Shane’s head by Ryan last night. After sitting down onto the hard plastic, addressed him again with an introduction. “My name’s Sara. We live together with our wonderful cat son, Obi.”

Shane nodded, neither of the names digging up anything for him. He was at a loss for what to say. Should he ask her questions? Was she here just to spend time with him? He wanted to hear about her, and who he was to her, but he didn’t know if Sara was in the same mental state Ryan was yesterday. Had a day even passed yet?

“I got some good news for you!” Sara chirped in, not letting him make a comment. “The doctors said that the actual blow to the head should be fine to manage at home, so I’m here to take you back! Isn’t that great? You can be rid of this place.” She was clearly ecstatic about the idea of having Shane back again. Did she really have Shane though?

Shane didn’t voice his doubts. “That’s great! I finally get to see the world. Let me tell you, this room isn’t very stimulating.” She looked over at him warmly, a large smile gracing her face. 

“Yeah. A nurse should be coming by soon detach you from your tubes and stuff.” Sara gestured lamely to Shane’s arms, making him look down at them as well. He almost could imagine what his home must look like.

\--

Ryan hadn’t seen Shane in a week. He didn’t ever come into work with Sara, which was understandable, but it was slightly maddening. For all of Shane’s annoying quirks and habits, it was what made the monotony of a work day worth sitting through. Now, the seat next to Ryan’s was always empty. There were no warm chuckles from when Shane would be scrolling through Instagram. There were no thoughtful cups of coffee for when Ryan looked absolutely fucked after a long night.

But Ryan ignored it all. He didn’t want to think about it. The moment Shane dripped into the shorter man’s thoughts, reality began to corner him, and the air would become too thick to breathe. So, he did everything he could to keep Shane out of his mind. He even started to avoid doing any work for Unsolved, including reviewing footage from the last episode that they had recorded for Supernatural. If Ryan was being honest with himself, he would never want to touch that footage for the rest of his life. Everything else came first all the sudden. Producing and editing random videos for Buzzfeed Multiplayer, volunteering for experimentation on other videos, browsing Twitter, lunch, sleep. It was all more important than Unsolved. To him, anything was better than facing the predicament of Shane.

And so what? Ryan was content with forgetting anything had ever happened. Everyone seemed to respect that and avoided saying anything. Ryan had made it to Monday morning with nary a stray thought going to Shane, even if that meant staring at his open laptop with no windows open. Everything was just as it had been for the past week.

Until rapid tapping against Ryan’s shoulder made the man turn away. Steven was behind him, looking oddly ecstatic. “Ryan, man, did Sara text you?”

Ryan could only blink in confusion, brows furrowing slightly. “I-i… don’t… know.” He hastily pulled out his phone to look at the screen. There was one unread text from Sara Rubin. “I guess she did. Why?” He snapped his head back over to his basketball buddy for an explanation. 

“Oh, well.” Steven clapped his hands together as an awkward air seemed to descend around him. He shifted from foot to foot, looking around and biting his lower lip. “She’s bringing Shane in today.” In a split second, he stilled, keeping his gaze firmly on Ryan as he searched for a reaction.

Instantaneously, Ryan’s brain kicked off every thought he fought ruthlessly to keep at bay. He almost forgot to give a response. “You don’t say…” It sounded more dazed than Ryan was hoping for, but he didn’t have long to dwell on that before his mind started to screech at him. Poisonous thoughts filled his lungs, treacherously suffocating him but left him breathing all the same. He was barely given a chance to escape when the sound of two sets of footsteps called for both Ryan and Steven to glance across the office.

There, wide-eyed and painfully confused, was the unmistakable stature of Shane Madej. Glasses were perched delicately on his bugged out face, mouth slightly agape. A pad covered a large portion of his forehead, forcing his hair to accommodate. His posture lacked confidence, arms pulled in to protect his chest and stomach as if some animal was supposed to come in and go for his spleen. Sara was right beside the giant, a small hand hovering over her boyfriend’s arm ready to spring into action in case some comfort is called for. To say the least, it was jarring to Ryan, seeing Shane in a state of borderline fear, even if it was mixed with a hefty helping of wonder.

Sara guided Shane across the room, murmuring to him as they walked. The tall man kept his eyes scanning, frantically absorbing the hectic environment; however, the chatter and chaos of the room had died down significantly once everyone was aware of who had just entered. BuzzFeed employees and interns all had their eyes on the unnerved mess of limbs, but no one spoke, save for a few whispers between each other. The silence, reasonably, made Shane tense up further, pressing his lips together in apprehension. 

As the two came into closer proximity to Ryan, he could begin to hear what Sara was saying. “-and over here is where you sit. Right next to Ryan.” She gestured to the empty space on their shared desk. One week was enough for a thin layer of dust to blanket all the contents on Shane’s side, promising a decent flare up the moment someone disturbed its resting place. Shane, rather than looking at his chair and monitor, locked eyes with Ryan. He managed a small, uncertain smile before Sara redirected his attention to Steven. “And this is Steven Lim. You’re pretty good friends with him, though he has insulted your show multiple times.” Sara smirked mischievously when Steven instinctively sputtered.

“Was that little comment really necessary!?” He huffed with indignation when Sara chuckled darkly. “It’s great to have you back, man! Or, somewhat at least! If you have any questions, I’m just over there.” Steven pointed over in the direction of his desk. “I’m a hard head to miss though.” The joke landed fairly well with Shane, eliciting a hearty chuckle from him.

“Thanks, Steven. It’s a pleasure meeting you again.” Shane’s tone had an element of forced formality to it.

Shane held a hand out for a polite handshake, but Steven wasn’t having any of that. The smaller man instead slapped Shane’s shoulder, causing him to lurch from the unexpected force, before heading back to his desk with a quick wave thrown over his shoulder. Shane’s hand was still outstretched, slightly disoriented. He only blinked to life again when Sara rested a soft hand on his lower back. “Well, get situated, chat Ryan up, and just get comfortable. This is probably going to be the fastest way to stir those memories up from that big noggin of yours!” It looked as though he was about to knock on Shane’s head, but her height and Shane’s vacant gaze made her stop. She flashed a wide smile to both Shane and Ryan before heading back to whatever she needed to do. 

Now, it was just the two of them.

Everyone now created a bubble around them, wary of drawing near.

Just Ryan and Shane, back at it again.

Ryan was aware that he wasn’t going to get anything more done that day. His head was just going to run itself ragged.

Shane asked his first question of the day. “How are you?”

There were a lot of ways Ryan wanted to respond. ‘How do you think I feel?,’ ‘Terrible now that you’re here,’ ‘I miss you.’ Of course, while all those would make Ryan feel a hell of a lot better to be able to at least redirect some of his emotions outwards, his amnesiac friend wasn’t the ideal person to be dumping his grievances on. Especially since he was the reason for most of them. So, he settled on a simple, “fine,” the word coming out flat.

Shane prodded again. “Are you sure? You seemed pretty shaken last time I saw you.” There was blatant concerned woven into each word.

“Listen,” Ryan mumbled lowly, “I am fine. I’m not exactly the person who needs to chatted up about their feelings right now, right?” His head turned to stare at Shane, who was leaning back into his chair.

“Is that so?” he inquired with a quirked up eyebrow. He looked like a cheesy, cardboard villain from a Bond film if those villains wore blue, floral, button-up shirts and the same pair of pants in different colours. “Well, it seems as though you are the one who has the yuckiest vibes here, so I believe that you,” Shane pointed at Ryan with both fingers, “my good sir, need a shoulder. Luckily for you, you’re miniature enough that you can juuuuuuust barely hit my shoulder with your forehead. So.” He outstretched his arms. “What do you say, buddy?”

Despite it all, Shane never shook his mannerisms, and Ryan couldn’t decide whether or not that made him want to laugh like normal, or sob his heart out. He settled for something in the middle. “We need to remain a little bit serious about this, Shane. The more you know, hopefully, the quicker your memory will come back.” He made sure to make it clear that he didn’t want Shane to refute this sentiment.

Shane, as per the usual, either didn’t pick up on Ryan’s hints or actively ignored them. “Who said anything about me not learning about myself vicariously through therapy sessions?”

Finally, Ryan broke out one laugh that sounded more like a cough followed by his trademarked wheezing. “Goddamnit, Shane,” he muttered, hunching over to hide the pricks of tears that built up at the corners of his eyes. “Figure out who you are, then you can dote over me, alright?”

Shane seemed to be content with the compromise because he changed the subject. “So… What do we do?” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his dusty desk. 

Straightening himself out, Ryan finally pulled open an editing software. “We edit and film videos; however, that is not what you will be doing. No memories, no knowledge on how anything works anymore.” His mouth pulled into a taut line. “No anything.” Shane’s gaze burned at Ryan’s temple. “Well.” He now stared at an empty software. “Any other questions Sara hasn’t answered?”

A tense moment passed, and Ryan could almost feel Shane’s frigidly curious gaze. “What happened to me?”

Of course, it was that question. “You got amnesia. I didn’t know you had forgotten that.” There was no levity.

“You know what I mean, Ryan.” Why did he have to sound so much like himself?

“You hit your head.”

“No. Really?” Shane gingerly touched his dressing on his head. “Who would’ve thought.” Ryan didn’t humor him, and Shane was apparently not expecting him to. “You wanted me to be serious, Ry, I am.”

“Don’t call me ‘Ry.’” It came out too bitter. Ryan only noticed when Shane didn’t say anything. “B-besides. Didn’t… Sara tell you?”

“No. She said she wasn’t there, and that it was your business to tell me.”

Ryan nodded, biting his lip. “I see.” Making up his mind, he stood and started to walk over to the kitchen.

Shane hastily stood as if he would chase after Ryan, but made no further movements. “Wait, where are you going?”

Ryan was already gone.

\--

Shane was utterly disheartened. The office around him tiptoed around him like he was a ticking time bomb, but he wasn’t so sure if he could dispute that notion. It had been near a month since Shane woke up in the hospital without a real memory of himself to call his own, everything faint copies faxed over from the minds about him that recounted stories that held as much weight as leaflets. They’d drift around the empty halls of his own head, taking up room but never really landing. Just objects to fish out of the air. Never belonging anywhere. He got stories from everyone, and often in mass quantities. The only one not pulling his weight was Ryan, and Shane had a hard time trying to figure out if that was a good or bad thing. 

Every morning on the weekdays, Shane would sit where everyone else had determined he should, and stared at the computer that everyone would say was his. He would sink into a chair that was supposedly his, stare at trinkets that he apparently owned, and tried to unlock a phone he wasn’t entirely convinced was his despite what everyone said. During the day, Shane would attempt to ask Ryan questions, who would often answer quickly while working. Every day, Shane would ask what happened. Every day, Ryan left for some reason or another. It was annoying and repetitive to both sides, but Shane’s own health kinda meant a lot to him, especially when it came to his head now. No one said a word, no one wanting to step on Ryan’s toes while unknowingly shoving heels into them. That much was visible whenever Ryan happened to be in the same room with Shane when he asked Devon or Mark about what happened. Those two, according to others, had been there the night Shane went down. Then again, Shane was finding it harder to trust information solely from the eyes and ears of others.

At the end of the first month, Shane began to think that people were lying to him. 

He reached that conclusion from the menagerie of questions Shane kept to himself. Why did he not remember anything yet? Not even a flash of something original? Why did everything still feel foreign? Why was everyone so skittish? Why was he treated like a china plate? Was it because they were all trying to keep their stories straight? Were they nervous because they had a facade to uphold? Was that why Ryan refused to tell him what happened? Shane’s doubts were deeply sown into his mind, and at the forefront with nothing to hide behind beside the biting convictions and moaning questions.

Halfway through the second month, Shane only believed the videos Ryan had shown him on day one. They were stone hard evidence that told him of his name, what he experienced. Everything else was certifiably false to him. Humans were too unpredictable, and there was no one he could trust. He didn’t know anyone anymore. Years of supposed friendships were wiped. How could he say they ever existed?

Slowly, Shane became just as wary as everyone else. He eyed every person who came within five feet of him. His vacant mind constantly hissed that everyone was in on it. Steven, Sara, TJ, Devon, Andrew. Were those their real names? He was certain Ryan was in on it as well. There was no one he could turn to but himself. He studied each person that talked to him with scrutiny. Everything they did was damning; however, Shane played along. He’d joke, but he could tell his tone was somewhat dry. He just needed everyone to believe that he still trusted them until he could remember, and catch them all in the act. 

Shane sat at the desk on the two month anniversary of his ‘accident’, hands clutching the edge as he tried again to scrape up something. As usual, there was nothing. Irritation grew, the tension and nonstop thinking grinding his patience down. He was worn, tired, and angry behind a face of composure. Thought the head wound had long since healed into a deathly pale scar and spiderwebbed out from the right side of his forehead out, it burned at times in phantom pain. Shane glanced over to Ryan, who was typing up something.

“Good morning,” Ryan greeted.

Shut up.

“How did you sleep?” Ryan shifted his eyes over and caught a good look of Shane, demeanor changing in a drop of a hat. Shane’s brain snapped to attention. Ryan knows that he knows.

He knows. “It was fine.” He fucking knows. Shane’s jaw clenched.

“That’s good.” Ryan’s brows furrowed. He knows.

Shane’s mind went ablaze with panicked thoughts. What was Ryan going to do now? Kill him? The shorter man had mentioned many times in the videos that he wouldn’t feel bad about killing his co-host. Oh god, that was his fate, wasn’t it? He’s dead, Shane’s dead. Dead without a memory to his name. A part of him hardened his resolve. He wasn’t going down without a fight. Even if Ryan could easily take him down, he’d have to work for it.

Ryan’s hand was reaching over now. Was Ryan going to kill him now? Was this the first move? Shane needed to run,  _ now! _

Shane launched himself from his chair, graceless legs stumbling over their own length. “S-stay back!!” Adrenaline started to course through his veins, drumming rhythmically as his heart jumped to action. His head swam through the thick haze of fear, almost bathing in the chaos it caused. Desperate, Shane’s hand landed on the desk, fingers gliding over the wood. He couldn’t find anything. Why didn’t he have any weapons to protect himself with!? “Don’t even try…” Since when did he start to breathe so heavily?

Ryan was on his feet as well, terror seizing his features as he held up his hands in surrender. The sudden movements caused both sides to back up from each other, locked in a staring contest. Shane’s chest heaved with panic, but his face was as neutral as ever. “Shane? Shane, what’s wrong?” He dared to take a step forward.

“I said stay back! I-” Why did he need so much air? “I’m warning you!” What? Was that a threat? Was he joking? Shane’s mind berated itself.

“Shane-” Why was he still lying? “- just breath, and we can talk.” Why was he still lying!?

“No! No more talking. I’m not dumb, I know what you’re doing! All of you!” When did all these people get here? Were they going to kill him- _ me _ too? They must, they’ve been found out. He _ -I _ spun around to assess the situation, always standing in a wide stance in case he- _ I _ spotted an opening. The whole office circled around him- _ me _ . Eyes on him- _ me _ . They whispered around him- _ me _ . About him- _ me _ . Why couldn’t they leave him- _ me _ be? What was so fun about watching him- _ me _ blindly dance along to whatever story they told? Shane- _ I _ refocused on Ryan. “I’m not playing along anymore.” His--  _ my thoughts are dissolving. _

_ Why does Ryan look so concerned? Is it because the jig is up?  _ “Shane, what are you talking about?”  _ Why is he playing dumb? Why is everyone confused? How long were they going to keep it up? _

“You know what I’m talking about! How long did this take you to plan? Months? Years!? How long were you going to drag this on, huh? When were you planning to just end this and kill me!?”  _ Why is my voice trembling? Why am I crying? _

“Shane!” _ Stop. Stop walking! _

“Get fucking back!”  _ Away, yes away from me. Just get away, leave me alone! _

“Please, just talk to us!”  _ No, no, no! _

“No more talking! No more lying!”  _ Get away.  _ “Get away from me!”  _ I need to get out. I need to leave. I can hear them all around me. Too many to take down. I’m going to die. At the hands of who? Anyone. Everyone is trying to kill me. Why, why, why? What’s the motive? The agenda? Why me? Who was I? I can’t think, I just need to think!  _ “For fuck’s sake… Back away!”

_ They’re backing up. Finally. No more.  _ “Shane.”  _ Why are you still walking!? Stop! _

“Get away from me!”  _ He’s going to kill me. This is it. _

“Shane, just calm down.”  _ How!? _

“How can I be calm!?”  _ Why are you toying with me!? _

“Just trust me.”  _ I can’t! I don’t even know you! _

“How can I trust you!?”  _ Don’t you know it’s over? At least own up to it as you kill me. _

“I’m your friend.”  _ I don’t know you! I don’t know anything! _

“You want to kill me!”  _ Stop denying it! Stop lying! _

“Shane! I’m unarmed.”  _ Oh, yeah. _

“I’ve must’ve forgotten. Your arms are detachable.”  _ Why am I still joking!? Stop joking! _

“I just want to help. We all want to help.”  _ Now you’re joking?  _ “Just take a deep breath, and sit down.”

_ No.  _ “No.”

“Shane…”  _ Get away from me.  _ “Please…”  _ There is no mercy for me, so why should I comply with you!?  _ “You need to calm down.”

_ Why won’t you stop!? Why are you still walking!? What do I need to do for you to stop!?  _ “No. You need to get away from me, liar.”  _ Do you really want to kill me this badly? _

“Shane, what are you-” 

“Shut up!”  _ I can run. Finally, I can run. Nothing else matters. I can make it to the corner and then book it. _

“Shane, let’s be reasonable. You like being reasonable.”  _ Do I? Are you lying again? _

“I-”  _ I don’t know.  _ “I am being reasonable.”  _ That’s right, I am. Of course, I am. It doesn’t matter. I just need to leave. I need to go. Run, sprint, dash, whatever. I just need to escape their eyes. I want to live, damnit. Even if it’s for five minutes. I’m leaving. Where am I? Where am I going? My lungs hurt. My chest hurts. My head hurts. God, my head hurts. I just need an open door- _

Shane’s rapid-fire thoughts broke when he finally hid behind a door that made a reassuring click behind him. One hand locked the door, shaking with the rush of prior events. His ears were tuned to listen for voices, confirming that his breath was the only one in the room. Still, he refused to stop moving, legs backing up so Shane could keep his eyes on the door. They trembled as he backed away from the only entrance into the room, stumbling over wires.

Wires. Shane looked around and saw cameras stationed around a single table, drenched in a dim dark. A set, if he remembered the word correctly. He had doubts about the validity of his brain, seeing as it couldn’t remember anything. Shane approached the table and recognized it from the videos Ryan had shown him. “Ghoul HQ,” someone had called it. It must’ve been called something else then.

Trying to even out his breathing, Shane sat down on the right-hand chair, closer to the in-out boxes. Where he sat in all the videos. His breaths were still uneven, shaking with each inhale and coming out too fast with each exhale. He just needed to focus. All was still quiet, the crowd of murderers still too far away to hear. A hand gripped absent-mindedly at some stray papers on the table. It didn’t matter. He was dead soon anyway. As an attempt to alleviate some tension, Shane grabbed a thin, red pen, and began to tap rhythmically against the wood.

Shane took one last gander at the site of his death, noting how different everything looked in reality compared to what he viewed on Ryan’s phone months ago. He remembered sitting in the hospital bed, comfortable next to a supposed friend. Listening to murders and tales of long past family bloodlines, haunting every corner of an old house. Waiting for Ryan to kick down the door so they could start-

Shane blinked out of thought. That didn’t come from any video. He didn’t remember anyone telling him about that. Plus, the images were vivid. Bright, and so realistic he could taste the sweat in the air from a crew of people shifting about behind the cameras. Realization hit him like a freight train. In a frantic, internal scramble, Shane delved back into the memory, relishing in every second of it.

Lights had shone down onto Shane’s face. He recalled their warmth. He had been surrounded by people but there was no threat. He knew them, through the strange fog that covered their faces. It had been hot, probably summertime. Definitely summer time. Sweat had permeated through the air, heavy and salty. The table had been covered in neat chaos, one manilla folder resting mere inches from Shane’s reclining body. In between his fingers had been a thin, red pen, tapping rhythmically against the wooden surface. He had a stack of yellow post-its before him, begging to be used. Chatter had filled the air while Shane remained content, face cleared of turmoil. He had been smiling, small but content. The red pen had tapped as the set door opened, brandishing Ryan like he was the best thing since sliced bread. He had smiled wider than Shane and with five times the force behind it. He had been put together, and presentable with well-treated hair and his best light grey tee. He had been happy. Truly happy. A look Shane cherished.

One he had been missing for two months. 

Shane could hardly believe it. It was a memory. His own. Clean and vivid as if nothing had ever happened. What else did he remember? Surely, there was more now.

There was. He remembered his parents, Mark and Sherry. His brother Scott. A simple life in Illinois. Holidays long past, but holding an untold value that Shane had previously taken for granted. Names and faces came swirling back, connecting and affirming stories that had previously gone unchecked. Daysha writing ‘pen15’ on his shoulder. Jen literally dragging him across the office. Steven playfully insulting Unsolved. Devon running through schedules. Mark chasing Shane down a hallway that was way too scary for anyone’s good. TJ staying straight-faced through every joke and jab Shane ever made. People he had thought were going to murder him in cold blood no less than three minutes ago all seemed so familiar to his brain. Trustworthy. Friends.

And Ryan. 

Fucking Ryan.

Ryan stuck in his mind. Every movie night, every recording, every day. Lamely consoling him throughout the nights in haunted areas. Arguing over what aliens really would be like. Jokes. They had all just been jokes. How could Shane forget? How could he accuse Ryan of attempted murder? He was irritable but kind. Words would fall out but the threats against Shane’s life never held any water, and Shane knew that. He knew that now. The memories began to hurt as they battled recent events. Logic and reasoning kicked in and it felt awful. The scar on his forehead began to burn in retribution. 

A light rapping on the door to the set caused Shane’s eyes to focus on the table before him again. Everyone had finally caught up with him, Shane guessed. He would’ve opened the door and apologized profusely if only he could get out of the chair. Unfortunately for everybody, Shane’s body seized up in fright, scared of his friends that had been nothing but accommodating to him and got a blathering idiot in return. All the tall man could do was begin to curl up on himself, forehead pressing into the table before him. He supposed it was good his body wouldn’t move. There was still one thing he hadn’t checked for. With determination, Shane closed his eyes and tried to think about how he got the scar on his head.

It had been a late night, sometime around nine o’clock when Shane and Ryan had stood before a rather well kept, colonial cotton farmer’s home. The air had been filled with the smell of freshly cut grass. It had been warm and dry as a breeze swept across whatever was left of the grass on the lawn. Ryan had offered Shane to go first, and so he did. Inside, the manor had been all the more astonishing. The walls and flooring had been well preserved, with their century-old creaks still intact as well. Ryan had told Shane to stay in front, and so he did. Endless hours of silence had gathered nothing but creaks that Ryan thought to be footsteps and wind that had been warped into whispers. Mixing that with the minutes of agony with the spirit box, and it would’ve been a solid video. Of course, Ryan was going to extract something from the garbled garbage, but Shane would humor him. Jokes, silence, taunts, over and over in a glorious repetition. It was all wonderfully familiar. 

The night had grown old as Shane recalled them wrapping up the recording. They only had one last section to explore by themselves. It had been the upstairs section there were supposed to investigate. Ryan had asked Shane to go first, and so he did. 

Shane had prattled about when he had heard the house groan. Again and again, it had hissed and moaned under the weight of itself. The wind had muttered further down the hall. Determined, Shane had followed the mumbles just to assure the audience and Ryan that nothing had been around.

“Ghouls?” he had announced loudly. “Is that you? Are you in this room?” He had stopped at the door to the master bedroom.

Something had fallen, clattering to the wooden floorboards. 

“Hellooo?” he had sweetly called, hand gripping the brass knob.

The door had yanked open before he could even twist the knob himself.

Nothing came afterward but a brief flicker of pain and the faintest register of fear before he slipped into a darkness deeper than any corner of the house.

Shane’s head pounded, hastily waving the memory away in distraught. He tried to come back into the moment, noticing the way his hands clenched strands of hair and his shoulders shuttered with every shallow breath. Tears began to dampen the papers Shand had previously crumpled up amidst his hysterics and panic. He just needed a moment to compose himself and calm down. He just needed to calm down, but there was so much to remember. For once, he desperately fought off the thoughts that did their best to return him. The memories could only be held at bay for so long till they crowded again, eager to get reorganized. It hurt as too many moments tried to find their place in Shane’s timeline. His headache grew, brain working harder than it ever had.

He could barely head the persistent knocking at the door of Ghoul HQ.

“SHANE!”

It was undisputably Ryan.

“Please, open the door!”

He sounded so frantic.

“Shane, we’re not going to hurt you, I promise!”

Shane knew that.

“I know that doesn’t mean anything to you-”

It meant everything to him.

“-but please, can you just talk to me?”

He wanted to so badly.

“You can say whatever you want.”

That would be so nice.

“I’ll just listen. I swear.”

He wanted to hear Ryan though. He wanted to joke. To laugh. To tease.

“I’ll keep the door closed.”

He wanted to hug Ryan and mutter a million apologies.

“Just please, say something.”

He wanted to tell Ryan so much. How much he knew. How much came back. But his throat was tight and sore from his outburst.

“Shane?”

Shane managed to break whatever spell kept him tied to his chair, wavering as he stood with weak knees. His body felt spent, running more than he normally did and his brain requiring too much energy to function at the moment. His steps were careful and light as the pen he had grabbed continued to tap against the nearest surface, which was his leg. Without a word, Shane pressed his back against the door and slid down to sit on the grimy floor. The pen rapped on the ground below, loud enough to be heard through the door. Ryan was obviously waiting for Shane to say something. What that something was, had been lost in communication somewhere. He decided to take a dive, and just say whatever came first.

“I… uh.” Shane needed to take a second to compose himself. He dropped the pen, pouring the last of his energy into talking. “I’m here.” 

Ryan didn’t say anything back for a second, almost anticipating something before continuing. “Shane, no one is going to ki-”

“I know, Ry.” Shane quickly cut in weakly, his voice soft and self-conscious.

“What’s wrong?” The question was gentle, and Shane could almost see Ryan’s furrowed brows through the door. 

“I-” Shane needed to take a breath as he attempted to explain himself. “I got scared. Astonishing, I know.”

“‘Got’ scared?”

Shane hummed.

“So, you aren’t scared now.”

“No. Concerned might be a better word for it.”

“What changed?”

“It… I… I remember, Ry.”

There was no audible reaction. Shane took it as a cue to continue.

“I was panicking in my chair when a memory just jumped in for the ride. It was for the Combusting Lady episode when the crew was setting up and you were coming in a little late. It was the best feeling, Ryan… being able to describe the way the lights feel on my face. To recall the smell of a stuffy, sweaty set. At the time it was uncomfortable, but it was… is amazing.”

“No joke?” The door almost completely blocked Ryan’s voice out.

“No joke. In all honesty, it hurts getting so much information flooding back all at once. I got a pretty bad migraine from it.”

Ryan didn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry, Ry.”

“He apologizes! It’s a Christmas miracle.”

“Who’s the one who spent two months trying to stifle my jokes? What happened to being serious?”

Silence again.

“Let’s try again. I’m sorry, Ryan. For everything.”

“What even happened?”

It was the question Shane had been fearing, but one he wouldn’t avoid. “I was being me. I was taking in information that I hadn’t witnessed, moments I didn’t remember even though I supposedly lived them. Nothing triggered a spark of anything in me. I kept thinking that… I should’ve been feeling something but I couldn’t. Everyone was perfect strangers throughout it all. The only solid evidence I had was the videos you showed me in the hospital. That was physical, in some sense. It was real. Not hearsay. I… I didn’t believe what anyone told me anymore. It’s the same reason I don’t believe in ghosts. People’s minds are complex and fickle, not to mention people lie. I thought everyone was lying to me. They avoided me, always staring for a little bit longer than normal. I don’t know… It looked like everyone was hiding something. And this morning… I guess… It looked like you figured out that I knew you guys were lying.”

“So you naturally thought that I would want to murder my best friend?” Ryan was obviously trying to be funny but it sounded bitter and only made Shane hug his shoulders.

“I guess… I mean… I-I don’t know.” Even though there was nobody around, Shane still felt the need to hide his face. “I… guess I just thought of when you’d… Joke. I know they were jokes but at the time… you know. I was confused and on edge, I just assumed the worst. I’m sorry.” He didn’t really have a whole lot to say, or he didn’t know what to say. His brain was still was trying to figure that out.

Surprisingly enough, there was a light chuckle coming from the door. “God, you’re trying too hard.”

“What?” Shane brought his face out to tilt his head over as if Ryan was right beside him. 

“You’d like to think you were discreet. Everyone could tell something was wrong. The first month was fine. You were just Shane minus context. Then you got… awkward. More so than usual. If we were all to be honest, we were kinda waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“I thought I was a better actor than that.”

“Eh. You were never that good.”

“Owch, Ry. That stings. I’m wounded.”

They shared a laugh through the door, both sides knowing the other is smiling uncontrollably.

Shane sighed in content, thumping his head against the door. “What happened to me?”

Ryan sighed as well, but blatantly morose. “I thought you said you remembered.”

“I did, but there was a point where something slammed into my head, and it all went black,” he said matter of factly.

A soft groan. “It was a robbery. Someone had broken into the house minutes before we did our investigating. The guy was upstairs when we came in and got stuck there. He was causing all the footsteps and voices that I heard. When… You went up for your independent session… He got you with his flashlight about 10 times. Enough times to cause some damage, obviously.” Ryan let out a dry laugh. “The guy was jacked. Mark called the police the moment we both distinguished two separate footsteps up there.” He paused for a breath, leaving Shane sitting at the edge of his seat. “Together, Devon and I managed to restrain him till police arrived while Mark went upstairs to check up on you. The… God, I could’ve sworn he bashed your head in, Shane… You weren’t moving… from what I saw you weren’t breathing.” He took a sharp inhale that shuttered too much for Shane’s liking.

“It’s okay, Ry,” Shane murmured in a gentle attempt to console the shorter man. 

“I missed you, you know?” Ryan barely muttered out.

“Mhm…” Shane could hear Ryan shifting about against the door.

“It was so hard.”

“Mhm.”

“You’d crack a joke and… Fuck it felt so normal. It was so obvious that you were still you, wholly and genuinely. You just… didn’t know me. You can’t know what it was like.” There was sniffing.

“Hey, hey.” Shane turned around fully to face the door as if he could actually see Ryan. “Come on, Little Guy! It’s okay now, right?” It didn’t stifle his friend’s sniveling. “Ryan…” Finally, Shane decided to close the distance. “I’m opening the door, Ryan,” he warned before standing to twist the knob and pull the door open. Light from the outside hall spilled in, perfectly illuminating Shane and letting him face Ryan for the first time since the whole debacle. The smaller man was leaning against the hallway wall, knees pulled up to his chin as his hands fought futilely against heavy streams of salty tears. Shane couldn’t help but let a remorseful smile slip by. Carefully, he lowered himself next to his friend, not making any move to touch Ryan. He stretched his legs out across the floor, resting his back against the door frame.

The two sat together in silence, save for the light sniffs and occasional stifled sob from Ryan. Words needn’t be shared between them, both secure in the thought that the other was there, wholly.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, thanks for making it to the end.
> 
> Originally, Shane was supposed to get his memories back, Ryan has a good cry about it, shave off a few thousand words and I'd be done.
> 
> Of course, I just write and next thing I know I've taken a new course with the thought that Shane's "I need to see to believe" mind, it would set up for a great roadblock where Shane begins denying everything anyone tells him, even if they are telling the truth, like the lying to the amnesiac trope but reversed? But this was changed because while I was writing out the confrontation, I wrote Shane in with a weapon. A pair of scissors. Originally, this was all supposed to go down with Shane keeping everyone back by holding out a pair of scissors, but Ryan kept trying to get to him. SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO Shane "threatened Ryan's prize." Yeah. I didn't want to get the police involved. So I got rid of the scissors.
> 
> Anyway, stay healthy.


End file.
